Maybe You're Just Not What Women Want
by Yo-Rah
Summary: The annual calendar is something that all military personnel fear and avoid like the plague. Of course, officers ranked Colonel are chosen this time around and Mustang hears a few unwanted comments from First Lietenant Riza Hawkeye. Oh, the drama!


First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye gazed upon the irate man scattering important documentation across the floor, the very picture of temperance and serenity. Black Hayate cowered against his ladies secure leg as Colonel Roy Mustang kicked the expensive mahogany desk and threw his regulation coat onto the carpeted floor. Then he proceeded to stomp the poor jacket with his heavy black boots. Colonel Mustang roared in fury and a pair of starlings that were basking innocently in the sunlight were startled into flight. He ignored the terrified exchanges his men shared and threw himself into the brown leather sofa, breathing heavily. The whole spectacle would have been funny if Mustang wasn't so damned angry.

Riza closed her eyes as if praying to the Gods or whoever was listening to lend her strength and blew out a quiet sigh. The buckles on her uniform jingled; the noise sharp enough to cut through the intense atmosphere. She heard a whimper she suspected was from Jean Havoc and shot him a very stern look that could have frozen some of the hardiest soldiers in Liore stone cold with fear.

"Colonel," her voice was level and mild, as if she were piling stacks of paperwork onto his desk like every other day and hadn't just witnessed her superior totally lose his rag. "You seem stressed."

"Of course I'm stressed!" Mustang bellowed. Hawkeye didn't even blink. Havoc, Fuery and Braeda on the other hand had taken cover under their assigned desks while Falman palmed the butt of his gun, ready to draw and shoot his commanding officer. "Fullmetal has pulled a fast one on me!"

"Sir?" Hawkeye raised an eyebrow in askance.

Roy Mustang took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his already messy hair. "It's time for the annual calendar that the Fuehrer started a few years ago." Mustang loosened his shirt and tipped his head back, closing his eyes against the perils of the world. "And that little shit Elric suggested that officers ranked Colonel should be the models this year."

"I see."

"And when I get my hands on that pipsqueak I'm gonna…" Mustang imagined a certain pint sized alchemist running around in circles with his arms waving above his head in blazing splendor until he burned into a pile of ash that would be carried away dramatically by a freak gust of wind. And of course Colonel Roy Mustang would be standing in his glory, gloves donned on his outrageously awesome hands that just so happened to snap which resulted in Fullmetal transforming to cinders. "I'm gonna… have a party."

"That's all very well," Hawkeye remarked casually. "But there are a total of 37 officers ranked Colonel which means there is no guarantee that you will be chosen."

The hiding men sucked in a breath and the Colonel froze in place. Falman promptly ducked under his desk as well rather than take his chances out in the open.

"What do you mean I might not get picked?" Mustang was now fully focused on the only female member of his team, eyes narrowed dangerously.

"As I said sir, there are 37 officers that rank as Colonel. There are only 12 months in a year. The odds of being selected are one in three." And because she was a formal person, First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye added a quick "Sir."

"Are you insinuating that I am not 'calendar' material, Lieutenant?"

Without even batting an eye Hawkeye responded like an android. "Maybe you're just not what women want."

Fuery whimpered under his desk and popped a thumb in his mouth.

"And the calendar is theoretically to be a fundraiser for charity – not a means to get at ones high ranking officers."

Havoc clutched at Braeda's jacket like child and shut his eyes tightly.

"Therefore, my analysis suggests that the best looking men in the Military are to be chosen for the event."

Falman began trembling like a leaf.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye!" Mustang barked, swiftly getting off the sofa and sweeping up his jacket dramatically. "You're coming with me."

Roy Mustang had the biggest grin plastered on his devilishly dazzling face a week later. A table had been set up just for him, center stage in City Hall, regular soldiers acting as bodyguards in case crazed fans tried to get a piece of Roy whilst signing autographs. The place was packed wall to wall with admirers and haters alike. Roy could have sworn he saw some of the other calendar models drawing little devils horns on his magnificence.

"You know Lieutenant, I really do owe the shrimp." He bragged to Riza Hawkeye, who stood at Roy's back scanning the crowd. "He couldn't have imagined the reception I'd get from all these beautiful women."

"Yes sir."

"It's tough you know," he chuckled. "Being so ridiculously good looking that is."

"Of course it is sir."

"I mean, I really hate walking down the street and seeing women faint all the time. It's distracting."

"Not to mention the men sir."

The Colonel laughed, flourishing his pen playfully as he signed yet another issue of what he referred to as His Calendar before Riza's words sunk in.

"What do you mean by 'men' Lieutenant?"

"I couldn't help but notice that men are your biggest fans." She deadpanned. "Sir."

Mustang's jaw dropped and quickly looked out over the gathering once again. "You've got to be kidding me!"

As Riza had observed, there were a total of 26 women in the hall which housed 380 comfortably and the rest were most definitely men. And perched upon Alphonse Elric's shoulders was a grinning Edward Elric. Ed pointed his finger unnecessarily at his superior and proceeded to yell at the top of his lungs. Of course Edward's words were drowned out by the many appreciative cries from the crowd as they watched the centre of their affections throw himself to full height – all the while looking absolutely remarkable - before the Colonel shoved on his trademark gloves ready to do some damage.

"Take that you ungrateful son of a-"

"FULLMETAL!"

Hawkeye cracked a smile and enjoyed the show before gently prompting the guards on duty to usher out the civilians before anyone got hurt. By the time she turned her back to help the guards Colonel Roy Mustang's maniacal cackle could be heard over Edward's painful cry and Al's calm voice reminding them both that violence was not the answer. Alphonse then found himself being the owner of a half melted left leg and crashed to the floor.

I can't believe he bought the whole story of Edward suggesting that Roy take part in the Calendar, Riza thought to herself. It was obviously Armstrong!


End file.
